


we'll meet on edges, soon

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaime Lannister Has Issues, Jaime Lannister Needs a Hug, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, The Golden Company (ASoIaF), Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23963698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which Jaime joins the Golden Company after he kills Aerys and finds a familiar face.
Relationships: Jon Connington/Jaime Lannister
Comments: 9
Kudos: 93





	we'll meet on edges, soon

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOO I spent the previous... two weeks lmao fighting writer's block by taking prompts on tumblr from a list and now I figured I'd repost most of them properly uu this one was for tumblr user emilysnora who wanted jonc/anyone who deserves him with 'you look like shit'. THIS HAPPENED. IDEK. HAVE FUN. (Honestly preseries jaime/jonc is absolutely my guilty pleasure but NEVER MIND THAT /o\\) The title is from bob dylan, nothing belongs to me and I'll saunter back downwards while I post a few more of these. ;)

The Golden Company was _not_ the place where Jon Connington had thought he’d run into _Jaime Lannister_ of all people.

Not that he had recognized him at once - when Myles told him there was some Westerosi kid who wanted to join and so _he_ was going to deal with it, it had taken Jon a moment or ten to recognize him under a few layers of filth, ruined white clothing and what seemed like blood stuck under his nails to the point that most of them looked red.

“You, Ser Jaime,” he says when Lannister says nothing, “look like shit.”

The lad shrugs, not denying it. “You, _Lord Connington_ ,” he replies, managing _somehow_ to sound cocky regardless of everything, “look quite well, instead, but I suppose I won’t begrudge you.”

Jon, who knows exactly why the lad is here, shakes his head and decides to give him a break. “You can get a bath three tents further down, they have a few tubs for people who need it. Then you can come back and we can discuss… this.”

“My thanks,” Lannister says, clipped, and then he goes for the baths.

–-

When he comes back, he looks… better. Soft golden hair, bright green eyes, clean nondescript clothing that someone must have found him. Except that he looks haunted, he’s too thin and there’s still blood under his nails.

“I suppose you’re here because of Aerys,” Jon says.

Lannister shrugs. “I heard they were discussing about sending me to the wall. Always was more for warmer climates, if you get my meaning.”

“And what,” Jon replies, “Lannisters always pay their debts and therefore need to be somewhere money is flowing and the Wall certainly doesn’t pay for it?”

“Maybe,” Lannister says, and Jon decides that like this, they aren’t going anywhere.

“Ser Jaime,” he sighs, “I’m second in command here. It’s not a bad life, if you can be content with it, and surely you’re good enough that you would flourish, but you _are_ aware that I can’t hire you if we’re not true to each other. I’m here because I failed my king, I lost that war and - and I failed _Rhaegar_ most of all. I had nothing else left, and Westeros wasn’t for me anyway. _Why_ are you here?”

Lannister stares at him for a long, long moment.

Then he sighs. “My father wanted to send me to the damned Wall, _everyone_ did, no one asked me why I fucking killed that mad bastard, I failed at being a Kingsguard, my sister - was supposed to _love_ me and she only can think about her nuptials with Robert instead, every fucking night I dream of how Aerys _burned Rickard Stark to a crisp_ and oh, I also can hear his queen screaming while he took her against her will and I had to listen to it. Why _wouldn’t_ I want to join a mercenary company? I’m a perfect fit for it, I wager.”

Jon could say a _lot_ of things.

Lannister’s fingers are shaking on the top of the table.

Same as his own do, a lot of times.

“Welcome to the Golden Company,” he sighs. “You _will_ fit right in.”

When Lannister smiles at him, it almost looks sincere.

–-

The first week, he says nothing when he hears the man sob in his sleep from the other side of his tent - they’re supposed to share until Myles trusts that Lannister _means_ it.

The eight day, he stands up, goes to the other side of it and puts an arm around Lannister’s waist.

“What are you _doing_ ,” he protests.

“Shut up. You can’t sleep, and you look like shit. I know it helps.”

Lannister says nothing.

He sleeps through the night, of course.

Jon could have guessed. Myles did it for _him_ , after all.

–-

The fifth time he does it, it’s particularly bad.

His heart _doesn’t_ skip a beat when Lannister’s fingers tangle with his own the moment Jon curls his arm around his waist.

Or so he tells himself.

–-

Two weeks later, they have a contract.

It goes exceedingly well, Lannister plays well with the others and earns his gold, and that evening he clears his throat as he comes to Jon’s bedroll.

He looks so impossibly young, Jon almost forgets that he’s only a few years younger than him.

“Well then,” he says, “what are you waiting for?”

Lannister sends him an almost relieved look as he slips under the blanket.

Jon says nothing of it and holds him again.

–-

“You know,” he tells Jon a week later, sounding almost tentative, not quite looking at him, “you _can_ call me Jaime. Guess it’s fucking ridiculous at this point.”

Right. They’ve shared a bedroll for… a long damned time.

“It’s Jon for you, then,” he shrugs. “In private.”

“Of course, _my lord_ ,” Lannister - no, _Jaime,_ grins back, but he looks like he _does_ mean it this time.

–-

“Why did you do it?” Jon asks in the dead of night, a few days later.

Jaime is _not_ facing him, and _not_ sleeping.

“What,” he replies, “kill Aerys?”

“You said no one asked you,” Jon replies.

“And you haven’t decided I’m a dishonorable arse for it?”

“I’m second in command of a mercenary company and my name in Westeros is disgraced, do you think I would care?”

Jaime nods, staying silent for a while.

Then -

“He had wildfire all over the city. He - he sent some of his pyromancers to light it up. I killed one, but - I knew he would find someone who would set the entire place on fire. I couldn’t let him. So I did it. But I had been wanting to since I had to hear him rape his _queen_ , and then I didn’t even manage to save _them_ , I -”

To Jon’s horror, he can hear that he’s broken down in sobs during the last part of it.

He opens his mouth, and he doesn’t know what comes out of it until he speaks.

“I’ve been blaming myself for their death since I lost that battle,” he says, curling his arm around Jaime a bit tighter. “Guess we’re two of a kind.”

“Maybe,” Jaime says, and then he mutters something like _fuck that_ and he’s turned to face Jon and he’s _kissed him_ and _what the_ -

“What are you doing?” Jon whispers.

“Come on,” Jaime says, and the almost desperate tone matches his wet eyes even too well, “I _know_ why you’re destroying yourself thinking about fucking Rhaegar and I think we’re way past pleasantries now, are we?”

“You don’t know what you want,” Jon replies feebly.

“Do _you_?” Jaime whispers back, and then he’s kissing him again and _fuck_ Jon is kissing him back and Jaime’s moaning gratefully into his mouth and neither of them manage to last more than it takes for a fumble with hands under the covers but it’s the first time Jon has _anyone_ in his bed since Westeros and - it’s good. It’s - nice, he decides, and when he draws Jaime closer after he just about clings to his shoulders and he wonder which one out of the two of them needed it more.

–-

“Fuck,” Jaime says, “ _fuck me already_ , Seven Hells,” and he’s arching under him, hands grasping at Jon’s sides.

“Be patient for once in your life and let me do it,” Jon hushes him back, because he _knows_ the lad never fucked another man (or better, never _let another man fuck him_ ), and he’s _not_ the kind of arse who’d take him just like _that_. He uses his fingers, oil-slick, and by the time he’s opened him up _nicely_ Jaime’s about begging for it, and when he _does_ eventually fuck him he takes it slow and nice and careful the way he never could with Rhaegar, and then Jaime looks up at him and says that _it never felt this nice_ and Jon chooses to not consider the implications of that sentence and fucks him _harder_.

Just a bit.

–-

“You don’t look much like shit anymore,” Jon tells him a while later.

“I know,” Jaime whispers, hiding his head against his shoulders.

It does sound like he means it.

–-

Later, Varys shows up with a child bundled in his arms.

Jon knows Jaime guessed who he is the moment he sees his eyes.

“Will you -” Jon starts.

“Yes,” Jaime replies at once. “I failed him once, I’m not failing him _twice_. Never was dismissed from the Kingsguard, after all.”

He _is_ tentatively smiling as he says it.

Jon can’t help thinking, it _is_ a very lovely one.

And he would have done what Varys asked alone, if he needed…

But knowing he won’t have to is good.

It - it really is.

End.


End file.
